Timeline: Oct 31st, 2002

Count Bakula's Estate
Logan, Ohio

The sun was just setting as Spender's limousine arrived at Count Bakula's estate. They drove down a long winding road that took them behind the large mansion. The chauffeur brought the car to a stop under a curved roof that would shelter the guests from the snow and rain. A young man, dressed only in a bow tie and loin-cloth, hurried forward to open the rear door and assist Spender and his companion out of the vehicle.

Mulder was grateful the three hour journey was over. His back and legs were stiff and aching from kneeling at Spender's feet. He had expected that he would be allowed the dignity of sitting on the fine leather now that he had surrendered to his father's desires, only to be pushed to his knees as soon as he entered the car.

Mulder looked around. The roof they were standing under was connected to a clear glass passage. It was so transparent as to be invisible. The only reason Mulder knew it was there was the fact that the snow did not reach the ground.

Spender ushered him forward with a hand on his back that quickly slid down under his coat to cup his bare buttocks. Mulder was dressed in tight-fitting trousers and a bolero jacket with tails, both navy blue with silver highlights. His pants had been tailored to leave his bottom exposed and accessible to his lover's touch, with the tails on his jacket long enough to conceal his bare flesh. The crotch area was also missing. Instead, his cock and balls were wrapped tightly in silver velvet, highlighting his genitals for all to see and admire. The pants hung low on his hips and, with the jacket barely covering his chest, there was plenty of firm bare skin on show.

His lover was dressed in an elegant evening suit, smoky grey in colour. The lapels concealed small slits over Spender's nipples, allowing him to nurse his son without removing his jacket and shirt. He had shown Mulder the alterations soon after they had left home.

For the second time since he had been woken, Spender had asked if he wanted to be fed. He had been denied that morning and was wary of getting his hopes up again. But he was already light-headed from hunger, so he wasn't going to pass up any opportunity for nourishment, no matter how slim.

"If it pleases you, Father."

"It pleases me," He revealed one leaking nipple through the opening, causing Mulder's mouth to fill with saliva and his leg muscles to flex in anticipation of climbing onto his father's lap. "To wait until after the banquet tonight," he continued as he adjusted his suit to cover the teat.

"Then why ask me?" Mulder slumped back in resignation.

"Because, son, you need to learn not to expect a positive answer every time. I have never fed you on demand before. Why should I start now? Just because you are my lover?" Spender laughed, lit another cigarette and held it out for him to draw on.

Mulder inhaled deeply, gathering his courage to rebel, despite the inevitable consequence. He was hungry and confused. He didn't know what else Spender expected of him.

"I thought you loved me. Or was that just bullshit to get your dick up my ass?"

Spender's reply was a stinging slap across his cheek. He went with the blow, absorbing the pain, knowing that he couldn't-he wouldn't- retaliate or defend himself.

"You will be fed only when I feel like it," his father thundered and Mulder flinched. "If you didn't have to be in prime condition for Jus Primae Noctis, then you would be fasting indefinitely. You don't want to get fat now, do you?"

It wasn't a question that required answering, so Mulder had remained silent for the rest of the journey, his eyes downcast.

They were escorted down the passage into a massive glass dome that seemed to stretch for miles in all directions. Outside there was a fierce blizzard blowing, the temperature only slightly above freezing, but inside it was comfortably warm, a little humid even.

The reason for the humidity was soon revealed. They were in the middle of a rain forest, tropical and lush. Tall trees and ancient looking ferns filled the dome. Mulder could hear the sound of rushing water and the squeaks and squawks of unknown animals and birds.

They were led deeper into the forest and eventually came out into a clearing lit by hundreds, maybe thousands of flickering torches.

Dozens of guests were already there, mingling about and sampling the various drinks and hors d'oeuvres' that were being served by naked young men and women. They were dressed in tuxedos and lavish evening gowns. Many had a lesser dressed companion on a leash and Mulder realised he wasn't the only slave in attendance.

"You are not a slave, Fox. You are my lover and consort." Spender admonished him for thinking such thoughts by pinching his buttock and slipping a finger into his well-lubed anus. He automatically spread his feet apart, allowing his father easier access. He was rewarded with a passionate kiss and a smile.

Spender withdrew when they were approached by their host who was surrounded by a retinue of very attractive young boys. They were all identical, both in features and body jewellery. They all wore only gem encrusted chokers, cuffs and genital harnesses and were heavily made up with eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick.

Mulder looked at Count Bakula for the first time and was revolted by what he saw. He was a huge man, grotesquely overweight. His Armani tuxedo strained to cover an enormous body, rolls of fat spilling over his pants. He had multiple chins and his eyes were tiny green specks almost hidden by the folds of his face.

"Lord Spender! Welcome." The Count moved forward to embrace his guest but a glare from Spender halted his advance. He chose instead to hold out a pudgy hand which Spender deigned to shake.

"Ich mochte Zigaretten." Mulder wasted no time lighting one up then handing it to his master. So much for Spender's assertions that he wasn't a slave anymore. From the beginning of his captivity, Spender had issued some commands in German and it had taken Mulder several attempts before he translated (or guessed) correctly. Each wrong interpretation was met with a lash across the back of his legs from a long whip Spender carried during his lessons. He only used them in public as if it somehow increased his already total control over his property; increased his status amongst the fawning masses on the rare occasions they travelled outside the compound together.

"Count Bakula. Thankyou for the invitation." Spender released the other man's hand. "I apologize for not being able to offer your first choice as entertainment tonight." Spender looked lovingly at his son, caressing Mulder's cheek and handing him the cigarette to drag on.

The Count looked most displeased at this turn of events. He was practically drooling as his eyes swept over Mulder's body, coming to rest on his groin.

"I..I hope the alternatives will be satisfactory compensation," he stammered. "This one is worth a dozen of the other fine specimens you have available."

"I'm sure you'll be more than satisfied with the replacements." Spender guided Mulder forward as he made the introductions. "Count Bakula, may I present my son, Fox William Spender."

The change of surname should have upset Mulder, but didn't. It was just one more bit of his old life and identity that his father could strip away.

A slight nod from Spender and Mulder dropped to his knees in front of the Count. He took the offered hand and sweetly kissed the fat middle finger.

"Stand, my love."

He rose gracefully and was immediately smothered in the Count's huge arms. He was roughly fondled and kissed and totally disgusted by the ordeal. Yet, he did not resist. He returned the kiss with the minimum amount of passion, which seemed to satisfy both the Count and Spender.

The Count finally released his hold, his eyes sparkling with desire, his hard cock almost bursting the seams of his trousers. "I can understand why you are unwilling to lose such a sweet, young thing."

"Fox is the one to blame for the change of plans. I would have handed him over to you in a heartbeat had he not chosen to submit to me. His love and devotion to me is the reason why others will be provided for tonight's ritual."

Mulder felt sick with the callousness with which his father explained the situation. He would have delivered his son, his lover, to be sacrificed—to be slaughtered—just so the Count could buy another Rolls Royce. He would have done this without feeling, without emotion. But infinitely worse was the knowledge that an unknown number of people were going to die in his place.

He wanted to change his mind, to revoke his Oath of Submission and take his rightful place as the sacrificial offering to the Count's evil deities.

He was pulled into a tender embrace, heard his lover's deep voice in his ear, his smoky scent in his nostrils, his slim fingers brushing his long hair.

"I know, son. I know." He was rocked gently as the tears began to fall. "But you made your choice last night. It is a choice you will have to live with for the rest of your life, for all eternity."

No words could describe his despair. He simply held onto the cause and only cure of his heartache and cried until he had no more tears to shed.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Half an hour later, the Count led all the guests into another clearing set up with long tables and high-back chairs. Spender was seated at the Count's table which was on a raised dais in the centre. The chairs provided for Bakula and Spender were richly upholstered in red and gold velvet, reminding Mulder of thrones. To his surprise, a place was provided for him next to his father. He waited for permission before seating himself, grateful not to have kneel in front of everyone.

Food and drinks were served. Large platters of roasted meat, succulent seafood and exotic vegetables were laid out along with huge jugs of beer and carafes of fine wines.

Mulder's mouth watered and his stomach rumbled as he watched everyone gorge themselves on the delicacies available, while his plate and glass remained empty. He had the headache and shakes that he remembered from his profiling days, when he would go without food for days at a time.

He didn't even bother asking Spender if he could partake of the lavish meal that was laid out on the table before him.

Spender finished his meal and wiped his mouth on a napkin. He shifted his chair back and Mulder eagerly anticipated following his father somewhere private where he would finally be nursed.

However, Spender simply patted his lap and gestured for Mulder to sit across his legs. He hesitated only a second before obeying.

"Do you want me to feed you, sweetheart?" Mulder hadn't thought that he would be asked, or the meal delivered, in public, in front of hundreds of strangers. He looked around the dining area and saw that everyone had either already finished eating or were putting down their cutlery to watch.

"If it pleases you, Father," he whispered as quietly as he could. He was fully prepared for yet another refusal, figuring this was just a trick, a cruel joke to humiliate and demean him further.

Spender deliberately took his time to answer. Mulder knew he was enjoying the distress emanating from his son's tormented mind. He had plainly said, when bathing Mulder earlier that day, that he favored his son's emaciated physique and that the other guests would be very covetous of his beautiful mann-kindes geliebter.

"My beautiful man-child lover," he had explained upon seeing Mulder's quizzical look. The term of endearment had made sick sense to Mulder. He was a man and Spender- his lover-used him as one. At the same time he was also his son and Spender- his father- treated him as just that, a child needing to be cared for and nursed at the breast.

"It pleases me very much, Fox," he said loudly, the pride in his voice clear for all to hear. Father settled son into position, almost on his side with his back towards the captive audience. He lifted the tail of his son's jacket out of the way, exposing his naked bottom.

Nestled in his father's arms, Mulder gazed at Spender's face and saw all the love he felt reflected back. Spender leant down and kissed him on the forehead, nose, cheek and finally on his lips. He felt hands stroking his back and hip, soothing his trembling body.

Mulder felt safe and protected. The hundreds of people in the dome ceased to exist. He didn't feel their astounded eyes on him, didn't hear their comments on what was happening to him. There was just himself and Spender, his father, lover and provider of everything he needed to survive.

He waited patiently to be offered a plump nipple. He took it between his lips and began to suckle greedily, welcoming the initial bitterness of the first few drops. The sweet, warm nectar quickly followed and then he was in heaven.

Spender was talking softly to him as he fed, the rhythm of his words making him drowsy.

"That's it, Fox. Daddy will feed you and look after you." He slipped a finger inside Mulder's anus as he spoke.

Mulder pushed back onto the digit, loving the sensation of being fucked so gently he could hardly feel it. His prostate was rubbed, sending electric jolts of pleasure through his body. His cock was hard as could be, his balls full and heavy between his legs.

"Everyone is watching you, love. Some want to be in your position, with my nipple in their mouth and my fingers up their ass. Others want to ram their hard cocks up your sweet bottom as you suckle."

Mulder whimpered in fear that Spender would allow such things to take place. He had hoped his days of being rented out to the highest bidder were in the past, that he would be used exclusively by Spender now. He didn't want anyone else touching him, fucking him, hurting him. But what he wanted no longer mattered. What was done to him was totally out of his control and it had been that way since that night in the Oregon woods. He had been given the illusion of choice that had as much substance as a mirage. He realized what he had really surrendered last night in his father's limousine was more precious than his body, more valuable than his mind. It was the option of saying no, of denying Spender that which he had stalked him for since the day he was born. Even if the alternative was a living nightmare of sadistic sexual perversion not even the Marquis De Sade could have fantasized about.

"Settle, Fox."

Mulder relaxed immediately. He felt Spender's finger moving deeper inside him. He continued to feed, working the nipple between teeth and tongue, extracting the precious fluid with vampiric intensiveness. He was careful not to bite, not too suck too hard. After all, Spender's comfort was paramount and far more important than his own basic needs.

"Who do you belong to?" A second finger was inserted.

*Only you, M'Lord.*

"Who do you love?" And then a third.

*Only you, Master.*

"Who do you trust?" A fourth and it began to hurt, but he not only welcomed the discomfort, he craved it.

*Only you, Father.*

Spender withdrew fingers and teat before Mulder's appetite (both sexual and nutritional) was sated.

"Thank you for feeding me, Father." Mulder sat up and folded Spender's lapel so that it covered the nipple.

"I'm not finished yet, son," Spender said. "Close your eyes and turn around."

Mulder complied, swivelling around to face the other direction. He was at a total loss as to his Father's intentions, but knew not to ask what he had planned.

Spender once again settled him on his side. "Here's the next course, Fox." Mulder felt the other nipple rubbed across his lips and he didn't waste any time taking it in. He resumed nursing, puzzled by but grateful for his father's generosity. "Our gracious host is right next to you," Spender revealed. "He wants you, sweetheart. He wants you very much."

"I do. I do, indeed." Mulder heard the Count reply excitedly but it sounded as if he was miles away. "I dare say that everyone else here does as well."

His cheek was stroked, his velvet-wrapped balls and cock fondled, arousing him further.

"Are you really feeding him, Lord Spender?" the Count asked in an amazed and clearly envious tone.

"I am indeed," Spender answered proudly. "Let go a second, Fox and squeeze me."

Mulder released the nipple and, tilting his head back slightly, raised one hand to his father's breast. He applied a little pressure and felt a stream of warm milk squirt into his open mouth. Some of it hit his bottom lip and dribbled down his chin. A flick of his tongue caught the errant driblets before they could escape. Mulder didn't want to waste a single drop of his father's milk.

Bakula chuckled with delight. "Please, Lord Spender. Share this beautiful event with our people. Allow my slaves to assist you, so that all may see such a wondrous sight; so that they may witness the incredible gift bestowed on you by our Saviors."

"Of course, Count Bakula. My son and I would be most honored to add to the festivities."

The nipple was withdrawn again and Mulder shifted into a sitting position. He could smell their host's sweat-drenched odour, could envisage him slobbering over him like he was a just another tasty morsel to be devoured, just another course served at the sumptuous banquet.

He heard two quick claps summoning slaves to assist his Master and servants to clear the table. He fought the urge to open his eyes as he sensed people moving around him, carrying out the Count's cryptic commands. His bolero jacket was removed, leaving him bare-chested. When he was again cradled in his father's arms, he discovered that he wasn't the only one topless. He was pressed skin-to-skin against his father and he inhaled deeply, getting high on his lover's ambrosial scent.

"May I?" Bakula asked.

"By all means."

Mulder's head was gently held by pudgy hands and guided towards his father's breast. He latched onto the nipple, determined never to let it go.

At the very edge of his awareness, he knew the guests had come forward, surrounding the dais, wanting to get as good a view as possible. He ignored them. His only concern was extracting every last drop of milk from his Father.

His hand was grasped and directed to his left and slightly downwards. He felt the material of the Count's trousers, stretched tight over a huge erection. Bakula bucked against him, once, twice and Mulder pulled his hand away only to be smacked on his bare bottom.

"Behave, Fox. The Count is an old friend."

*Old? Prehistoric is more like it.* The thought materialized before he could stop it. He could do nothing but wait for the inevitable punishment. It arrived quickly, two stinging slaps to his cheek that dislodged the nipple and brought tears to his eyes.

"You have insulted our host. I think it's only fitting that he punish you."

"I'm sorry, Father. I'll be good," Mulder pleaded. He hurriedly replaced his hand on the Count's crotch and drew the nipple back into his mouth. The sweet nectar was gone, replaced by milk that was lemon-bitter and chilli-hot. More punishment. Spender had a seemingly endless selection of ways to show his displeasure.

"It's too late to be sorry. You misbehaved and now you must face the consequences." Spender's face showed no emotion at all as if he had suddenly morphed into the robotic Bounty Hunter. He clicked his fingers and then whispered to the slave closest to him. The slave left the dining area at a fast trot, returning a minute later with a thick strap which he handed to Bakula.

Bakula practically snatched it out the boy's hand, visibly excited at the unexpected treat Spender was offering.

Mulder knew that begging for forgiveness or mercy would only increase the punishment he was facing.

Spender pushed him to his feet. "Apologize to Count Bakula, Fox."

Mulder faced Bakula, trembling at the thought of the beating a man of his size would dish out.

"Forgive me, Sir. I meant no offence." He turned to face the table and leant over it, resting his upper body on the dark wood, offering his bare back. "Please beat me. I deserve to be punished." He stretched his arms out to the side. They were held in place by two muscular servants, even though Mulder had no intention of struggling.

And punished he was. Bakula laid into him with the strap, lash after lash rained down from above. From the top of his shoulders to the low waistband of his trousers, no bit of flesh was ignored. Mulder winced as each stinging blow landed, but he didn't cry out or resist. He had embarrassed his father already, didn't want to add to it by being weak and revealing just how much pain he was really in.

Blinking a couple of times to clear the tears, he caught a brief glimpse of the audience gathered around the dais. A few of the women had turned away at the sight of him being beaten. Others looked on in disapproval, but no-one came to his aid. No one dared to tell Lord Spender his discipline was inappropriate.

The majority was a captive audience, excited by the display, Count Bakula most of all. He was perspiring freely now as he continued to administer the most brutal punishment Mulder had ever endured. As his powerful arm rose and fell, over and over, his salt-laden sweat splashed into Mulder's wounds, increasing his torture to an almost unbearable level.

Mulder imagined what his back must look like, raw and bloody, the flesh ripped to shreds.

"It's not that bad, son. Bakula is a Master at delivering maximum pain with minimum physical harm. Did you really think I would let an amateur lay his hands on your sweet flesh?"

Mulder was comforted by Spender's assurance that he wouldn't be permanently scarred. It made the rest of the beating bearable.

Finally it was over. His wrists were released and he felt his father's hands smoothing over his back, soothing the heated flesh and raised welts. Exhausted and hurting, Mulder laid still as the other men examined him. Spender complimented the Count's technique with genuine feeling, something that made Mulder's skin crawl.

Then he was being lifted upright and turned around. A shocked gasp travelled through the assembled guests as his back was displayed for all to see.

"That's my sweet boy." Spender's tone was once again soft and soothing. "Now, the Count is waiting for his dessert."

Mulder knew what was expected of him and he obeyed without further resistance, dropping to his knees in front of Bakula's throne. He located the button on Bakula's trousers, managing to work it free of the button-hole. He then lowered the zipper and reached inside. What he touched almost made him withdraw his hand again, regardless of any further punishment he would earn for doing so.

He was on the verge of rebellion when his hand was pushed away.

"As talented as your boy is, Lord Spender, I fancy him as dessert. I assume he is as sweet and tasty on the inside as he looks?"

"He certainly is. How would you like him served?" Spender asked.

"I think right here will do just fine." Mulder felt drops of saliva splash on his naked shoulder. The Count was literally drooling over him.

"Very well," Spender replied enthusiastically.

Another clap and then Mulder was grasped under the arms by two pairs of soft hands. He was drawn up and away from his position between Bakula's feet. Once on his feet, he was guided backwards til his backside touched the edge of the table. He was lifted slightly to sit on the table. All the time, his lover held his hand, soothing him with every stroke of thumb or finger.

"That's a good boy, Fox. Just lie back and relax."

Mulder obeyed his father's command and allowed himself to be positioned on the mahogany surface, his long legs placed either side of Bakula's massive thighs. A large firm cushion was placed under his head and shoulders, raising him slightly off the table. He flinched as his abused back came in contact with polished wood.

Bakula was sitting between his parted legs, his obese form filling his vision, shrinking his cock and turning his half-full stomach. Bile and milk flooded his throat and he quickly swallowed, not wishing to insult their host further by throwing up all over him.

"Very good, Fox." Spender tucked Mulder's long hair back, baring his chest for Bakula's wandering hands to explore. "Treat any order he gives you as coming from me."

"Yes, Mast..." His response was cut off as Bakula leant over him, running his tongue from Mulder's pierced naval to his left nipple. He felt in danger of being crushed beneath the enormous bulk of cloth and flesh, but he didn't struggle or complain.

He could feel Bakula's still covered cock rubbing on the inside of his leg, hard and hungry. His large hands groped and probed at his hips, at his ass.

Just as Mulder was running out of breath, Bakula sat back, licking his lips. Some of his drool escaped the sweep of his tongue, falling onto Mulder's groin, staining the silver velvet a dark grey.

Bakula reached out and traced the length of Mulder's bound cock, sparking it to life and sending shivers up and down Mulder's body. He deftly removed the soft wrappings, freeing the semi-erect shaft and ran his thick thumb over the head.

Now it was Mulder's turn to buck. It was pure reflex, purely the result of his years as a sex-slave, trained to respond without thinking.

Bakula leant over again and licked the purple head, tasting the pre-cum leaking from the slit. He ran his hands over Mulder's flat belly, caressing and stroking him like a lover. Then, without warning, Bakula attacked. He devoured Mulder's length easily, his lips touching the base.

Mulder moaned at the feel of the hot, wet sheath. He couldn't remember the last time he had been on the receiving end, taking rather than giving. *That's a lie,* he thought. *You do remember when. You even remember who...*

A face appeared in his mind's eye, a face with jade green eyes behind wire-rim glasses, a high forehead below a mostly bald scalp, elfin ears and a mouth that was just made for kissing.

*Shut the fuck up! I'm not allowed to remember...them. It's forbidden. I'm his now.*

He forced it away, replacing the image with that of his father, his lover; the only person he needed, the only person he wanted.

He sensed satisfaction from Spender in the way his hand was held, the way his ear was nibbled and that gave him more pleasure than a thousand blow jobs ever would.

It wasn't all pleasure though. Bakula's teeth scraped along his cock, his slug-like tongue feeling like slimy sandpaper on Mulder's ultra-sensitive skin. His fingers dug painfully into his hips, holding him still so he could be consumed.

He barely felt his legs being grasped, lifted and laid over the old man's shoulders. He definitely felt his ravaged back scrape across the table, setting it on fire. The new angle allowed Bakula to swallow even more of him. His cock hit the back of the Count's throat over and over as he was gripped and released.

He could feel the pressure building in his balls, discomfort verging on pain due to the tightness of the velvet still binding them. It was increased when they were grabbed and squeezed by Bakula's strong fingers and Mulder cried out.

"Oh fuck!"

This seemed to intensify Bakula's appetite and he sucked with such fury, Mulder was positive his cock would be turned inside out by the suction.

He felt himself shudder, knew that he was approaching climax. It couldn't come soon enough. He wanted it over, wanted to be back in his lover's arms, nuzzling his father's breast.

He got his wish as he exploded, shooting his seed down Bakula's throat. He was milked dry by powerful muscles. It felt like a vacuum cleaner had been attached to his cock, felt like his balls were being sucked right out of their sacs.

Finally he was released, his legs falling as Bakula collapsed, (*backwards, thank God*) looking as exhausted as Mulder felt.

"Come here, Fox." Spender held out his hand and Mulder grabbed it. "Was that good, my love?"

Lacking the breath to answer, Mulder just nodded. His face was flushed a deep red, his heart beating madly in his chest. He stumbled the couple of steps to his father, collapsing into his outstretched arms.

"That's good. I'm glad you enjoyed it." He felt his limp cock held and stroked. The velvet strips hung loose around his empty balls, longer lengths that had bound his penis trailed between his legs towards the floor. It was a shock to hear that Spender cared whether Mulder enjoyed himself or not. Mulder savoured the moment, knowing it would be a rare admission, something to be held and treasured.

*He cares. He really cares and he loves me. He always has loved me. My father only wants me to be happy. And I can only be truly happy by serving him, which he has always known. I've known it too, but have spent my life fighting it, not wanting to give in to what was fated by the gods since before I was born. Father has had infinite patience waiting for me to come to him, to kneel down at his feet, to say that I love him and that I am his, to do with as he pleases.*

All these thoughts—these revelations-and many more tumbled through Mulder's brain in a split second, jumbled and confused and yet as clear as the finest crystal at the same time.

"The Count enjoyed it." His mouth was covered by his lover's lips, his lover's tongue delving inside to explore, to taste, to plunder. "He enjoyed you, Fox." His head was turned to the right, where Bakula was slumped in his chair, yellowish fluid smearing his mouth and chin.

Mulder felt a plump nipple pressing against his cheek and he flicked out his tongue, hoping to capture more milk.

"No, Fox. Something else is on the menu for your dessert. Sit up on the table."

He let two slaves lift him up and back. There were damp cloths laid out for guests to wipe their hands and mouths. Spender picked one up and cleaned Mulder's cock, the icy cold material just one more shock to his already overloaded senses.

Mulder watched passively as his lover placed two metal cock rings over his flaccid penis, one at the base, the other just below the head. They were connected on the underside with a thin strip of stiff leather, creating an artificial erection. His balls and cock were then wrapped again in the velvet strips, only this time the bindings were much tighter, more constrictive. Without being told, Mulder knew he would not be permitted to come for a very long time.

Spender reached out and tweaked his nipples, causing Mulder to squirm and gasp in delight. Amazingly, his cock swelled in response, the rings digging into his flesh, converting delight into discomfort.

"Kneel up, son. It's time to thank our host for the wonderful meal," Spender said as he helped him slide his legs under and rise. Mulder swayed slightly, the shiny cloth of his trousers slippery on the high gloss of the wood beneath his knees.

A soft hiss and the table began sinking into the dais, lowering Mulder til he was at groin level. He knew without a doubt that he would have to work for his supper, even before Spender put a hand on his bare shoulder, turning him to face Bakula.

He glanced beseechingly at his father, recalling the deformed mass inside Bakula's pants. He would have to take it in his mouth, to worship it, to make love to it. He wondered if Spender was aware of what he was ordering Mulder to accept without complaint. His father's face was passive, a little bored even as if he was beginning to tire of the niceties that had to be observed.

"It is only proper, Fox, to show our appreciation." Spender said and Mulder could hear in the tone of his voice that he was in fact aware of what Mulder was about to face and, while he did pity him, it was out of his hands to stop it from happening.

"Yes, Father." He lowered his head and crawled the short distance to their host. Keeping his eyes fixed on the crotch in front of him, he quickly extracted the huge, weeping organ. It was the ugliest, most disgusting looking cock he had ever seen and he had seen hundreds if not thousands during his captivity. Grotesquely fat like the rest of Bakula, it was covered in places with course gray hair.

Mulder closed his eyes under the guise of concentration. In truth he couldn't continue looking at it without emptying the contents of his stomach. Gathering all his self control, he ran his thumb over the head and found the pulsing vein on the underside that set Bakula moaning and groaning with delight. Hidden beneath the hair were numerous lumps and swellings. Whether they were warts, moles or something even worse, Mulder didn't want to know.

The Count's cock was erect already, watery gray pre-cum leaking from the slit. Mulder was sure it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge. He worked quickly, stroking and pumping the shaft, concentrating on the ultra-sensitive tip.

He hoped he would only have to deliver a hand-job, that the Count would be easily satisfied and not insist on climaxing in Mulder's mouth. His hopes were dashed however as Bakula tangled thick fingers in his hair and forced his cock into Mulder's mouth. The pressure didn't ease after Mulder submitted. He was held captive by Bakula's strong hands as his mouth was brutally fucked. He tried to relax his jaw, tried to accommodate the massive organ, but it was no good. Bakula was simply too big and soon Mulder was gagging, struggling to draw enough breath.

Mulder panicked and tried to pull back, to escape but was trapped by Bakula's muscular legs and powerful hands. Memories of being asphyxiated to the point of unconsciousness numerous times and death a couple, flooded Mulder's mind as Bakula's salty semen flooded his throat and gullet.

Above and around him, people conversed and the clearing was filled with raucous chatter. He was effectively forgotten, as invisible as the many servants and slaves that wandered the dome, satisfying appetites, many of them carnal in nature.

Mulder's stomach quickly became queasy and bloated with the seemingly endless serving of "Dessert a la Cum". The ejaculate became thicker as it travelled down his gullet, entering his stomach with the consistency of glue.

Bakula didn't relinquish his hold until Mulder licked the softening cock, cleaning the last drops of bitter fluid and tucked the deformed organ back into the Count's trousers.

By the time he finished servicing Bakula, he was full, his stomach stretched to pre-captivity capacity, his hunger satiated for the first time in years.

He was soon summoned by Spender and moved quickly to his side. He was about to rise, but was halted with a hand on his shoulder.

"Father?"

"You haven't finished yet, Fox," Spender said, moving his hand from Mulder's shoulder to his own fly.

"Father, please. I can't. I'm full." Mulder replied quietly, desperately.

"You certainly can, Fox." *And you will!!* There was blinding pain accompanying the telepathic command. Mulder grabbed his head as he collapsed in agony at his father's feet.

Seeing his son's distress, Spender moved to soothe and calm him, though he stopped short of apologizing for being the cause of it.

"It's ok, Fox. It's all right. You will have to learn to accept my thoughts as you have accepted my body." He spoke in a hushed voice as Mulder wrapped himself around his legs. "They are very powerful and it will take you time to become used to the intensity."

The pain he had experienced during his first time as a mind-reader was nothing compared to the torture his Father's thought had caused. He had nearly gone insane before, had been locked up in a psych-ward and pumped full of powerful drugs. However that ordeal would be like a case of the flu in the face of what his Father was telling him. He would have to accept the agonizing intrusion with no outside help, no stupefying drugs to dull the voices. He knew he would be granted no mercy, no relief from the pain. It was another test of his strength, his worthiness to belong to the most powerful man on the Earth. He was determined to pass with flying colours with a future of pain-free telepathic communication with Spender his ultimate reward.

He recalled the ease with which they had talked after his mother had left him-abandoned him- believing there was no cure, no hope of a future as anything other than a zombie.

Spender's thoughts had been the only ones not to cause Mulder pain. Surely that was just another example of how they truly belonged together, closer in mind and body than even Siamese twins.

He heard a concerned voice through his pain-filled haze. "Is there something wrong, Lord Spender?" He latched onto it like a lifeline that would pull him to the surface of pain. As he struggled to his knees, the mental anguish eased somewhat.

"Only a migraine Fox is prone to suffer. Nothing to be worried about."

Spender freed his abnormally large erection, taking care not to stimulate it, leaving that task solely to his son's talented hands and mouth.

"Very well." Bakula replied, lifting a goblet to his chubby lips, as he turned his attention elsewhere.

Mulder shuffled forward between Spender's legs and set about his duty with renewed enthusiasm, appreciating his lover's spectacular assets more than ever. He caressed the long, smooth cock and perfectly round balls tenderly, using feathery touches and the very tops of his fingertips. Grasping the base of Spender's penis, he gently flicked his tongue up and down the shaft several times, moistening it. He followed with his breath, cooling and warming the skin with alternate exhalations.

He felt Spender shift, his arousal growing by the second. Mulder knew from experience the more times a man is bought close to orgasm the more intense the eventual climax. Did he dare take him to the brink and then pull him back? Would he be allowed even that tiniest amount of control over his Master's body?

He decided not to push his luck, but was still determined to give the best blowjob of his life.

Holding the stiffening cock between his lips, he tickled the slit with his tongue as he tightened his hand around the base. He eased the pressure slightly, pushing his tongue firmly into the tip, before taking him fully in his mouth.

Mulder massaged his lover's length with his lips and tongue. He gently rolled the large balls in their sac, feeling their substantial weight and eager to taste the creamy liquid stored within.

Spender jerked and let out a soft moan. He placed his hands on Mulder's head but didn't try to force the pace.

Mulder accelerated his attack, nibbling and licking the large cock from its wide base to the mushroom-sized head. He took him easily deep in his throat, using his lips and jaw to impel Spender to give up the dessert he had promised.

Spender was squirming and writhing freely now, moans and groans coming from his throat as Mulder took him higher and higher, closer to release, closer to the little death that would satisfy both Master and slave.

He expertly brought Spender to a shuddering orgasm and then eagerly swallowed the enormous amount of liquid fire that was pumped down his throat. He was still getting used to the intense heat that burned his tongue and scorched his throat, but his father's fluid was like manna from Heaven compared to Bakula's revolting ejaculate. The flow seemed to last forever, his stomach expanding to accommodate the unusual meal his father was providing.

He imagined having gained an instant beer-belly though in his case it was a milk-and-semen-crammed-belly. He was glad his trousers barely reached his hips, otherwise he would have been cut in two by the tight waistband.

An unknown time later, he was pushed back gently into the supportive arms of two slaves. He didn't want to be torn away from Spender, wanted to stay connected to him for all eternity. Even though he was fuller than he could ever recall, he was still hungry for his lover's essence and Spender seemed to be able to provide an unlimited amount of it, from either his cock or nipples. His balls didn't seem any lighter or smaller than when Mulder had first handled them.

He reluctantly let go, allowing the slaves to clean his cum-smeared face and chest. One slave hurried to wipe Spender's penis before tucking it back inside his pants while another helped the older man back into his shirt and jacket. His own erection was rock-hard and weeping, the metals rings and soft, constrictive bindings adding to his torment.

Spender held out a hand, beckoning Mulder to his feet and onto the chair beside him. As he rose, he felt impossibly heavy around the middle and looked down. Where his belly had been non-existent, slightly concave in fact, it now protruded in a soft curve. Spender ran one hand over the smooth skin.

"Don't worry, my love. You'll quickly digest our offerings and be back to your svelte self in time to serve as a host for Jus Primae Noctis. "

*In other words: Don't hope to get fed again any time soon or very frequently from now on.* Mulder translated his father's words and felt an immediate sense of loss and yet he wasn't angry. His father would care and provide for him. He alone knew what was best for his son. All Mulder had to do was serve him to the best of his ability and everything else would be taken care of.

The size of his waistline worried Mulder far less than the way Spender was stroking him. It was disturbingly familiar and yet he couldn't say exactly why.

*He's probably just imagining you getting knocked up by a little green woman.* He thought, a chuckle escaping his lips, an extremely rare occurrence since his abduction.

And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Spender was caressing his belly exactly the same as his fath... as Bill Mulder had caressed Teena when she was pregnant with Samantha. Even the tone of his voice was the same that Bill had used to allay Teena's fears about getting fat and not being desirable.

He pushed the thought out of his mind as too extreme even for Spender to be contemplating. It was just a simple touch. He had been touched in a similar manner by far too many people to count. It didn't mean anything.

*Yeah, you've also sucked on plenty of men's tits too, but none of them filled your stomach with milk.*

He ignored the voice, blocked it from his mind along with other things he didn't want to think about. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, that the thought of carrying Spender's child turned him on, if only as a fantasy, as the ultimate expression of his love and commitment.

He settled back in his chair, one hand resting on Spender's thigh, his thumb tracing small circles. His headache had dissipated entirely, the pain already forgotten. He gazed lovingly at the older man.

Spender was talking to Bakula, discussing the upcoming ceremony that was to be the highlight of the evening. Mulder couldn't hear what they were whispering about, but when Spender lifted his head, a contented smile was on his face.

He waited until the conversation was completed. "Father?"

"Yes, Fox?"

He blushed, suddenly shy, feeling like a teenager on his first date. "I love you." He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his lover's lips.

THE END